


Ficlets

by MiaCooper



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-11-07 16:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/pseuds/MiaCooper
Summary: Sometimes, between other stories, I see a writing prompt and get the urge to dash something off, so that's what this is for. Mini-stories that are longer than drabbles but shorter than ... other things. Yes.Rated G to M, so far.





	1. Snips and Snails

**Author's Note:**

> 'Snips and Snails' was prompted by a chat with some hilarious ladies in a timezone far, far away.

“I don’t know what to do. They just keep showing up.”  
   
She’d be wringing her hands if they weren’t currently being tongue-bathed by a cocker spaniel called “Buster Kincaid” and an excitable Dalmatian bearing a tag reading “Captain Proton”.  
   
Chakotay tugs his ear in consternation. “How many do you have now?”  
   
“Going on a hundred and thirty.” Kathryn blows a lock of hair out of her forehead. “Even Tuvok sent one. Look,” she gestures to a Great Dane, possibly the only well-behaved puppy of the lot, seated regally by the door.  
   
Chakotay can’t help the twitch of his mouth as he reads the dog’s collar tag. “T’Paws?”  
   
She rolls her eyes. “The Vulcan idea of a joke. Chakotay, seriously, why does the crew keep sending me puppies?”  
   
“Maybe they’ve taken a leaf out of Q’s book,” he teases.  
   
“Hush your mouth. Honestly, though, if they wanted to cheer me up, couldn’t they have baked me some coffee cake? What am I going to do with all these dogs?”  
   
“Well, have they cheered you up?”  
   
Kathryn bites her lip, glancing around at the heaving mass of fur surrounding her. A greyhound named “Eight of Nine” is chasing a fluffy labradoodle called “Naomi Woofman”. A schnauzer with endearing eyebrows whose tag reads “Chief” is supervising a pair of identical border collies named “Thing 1” and “Thing 2”, whom Kathryn vaguely remembers were a gift from the Delaney twins. A haughty Doberman called “Doc” regards the merriment from his position on the couch beside her. Kathryn can’t help grinning.  
   
“There you are, then,” Chakotay says, satisfied. “And actually, I do have an idea.”  
   
“Yes?”  
   
“Well, animal companions have long been used as part of therapy for people who are stressed or depressed, and since the end of the Dominion War there’s a lot of that going around. Why not set up a dog therapy ranch? You’d be doing a great public service.”  
   
Kathryn cocks her head to one side, looking for all the world (though Chakotay keeps this thought firmly to himself) like the Irish setter in the framed picture on the mantelpiece behind her. “Actually, Chakotay, that’s a wonderful idea. Why don’t you do it?”  
   
“Me?”  
   
“Yes, you! You’d be wonderful at it! I always said you were Voyager’s unofficial counsellor. This is a perfect career opportunity for you.”  
   
“But Kathryn –”  
   
“Yes?”  
   
Chakotay tugs his ear again. “Does this mean you don’t want to keep my gift?”  
   
“What gift?”  
   
In answer, Chakotay puts two fingers to his mouth and lets out a glass-shattering whistle. There’s the thud of puppy footsteps, and a black Labrador puppy thunders through the open door and leaps onto Kathryn’s lap, its entire rear end wagging enthusiastically.  
   
She lifts his name tag. “Warrior?” she reads, raising an eyebrow.  
   
Chakotay shifts his feet. “You can change his name if you want.”  
   
“I don’t think so.” Kathryn places the puppy gently beside her and rises, walking over to her erstwhile first officer. “In fact,” she continues, resting her hand on his chest, “I wouldn’t change a thing about him.”  
   
Chakotay’s eyes crinkle at the corners as she steps even closer. “Really?”  
   
“Really,” she says as she reaches up on tiptoe, “he’s perfect just the way he is.”  
   
A chorus of howls and yips is the backdrop to their very first kiss.  
 


	2. Getaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by this Zelda Fitzgerald quote:

When he returns from the beach, salt water still crinkling his hair, she’s slouched on the cushioned window seat gazing seaward. Her hair is pinned haphazardly atop her head, loose tendrils framing her face, and she’s wearing an oversized t-shirt, bare legs stretched out.  
  
“I know we’re on vacation, Kathryn,” he grins, “but It’s almost noon and you’re not even dressed yet. What have you been doing all morning?”  
  
“I took a bath,” she protests. “I painted my toenails.”  
  
She wiggles them, and Chakotay comes over to cup a foot in his hand. “Very nice,” he offers, pressing a kiss to her sole.  
  
She stretches lazily, poking him in the stomach with her other foot. “Hey, aren’t you the one who’s always telling me to relax?”  
  
“I’m pleased to see you’re finally taking my advice.” He presses his thumbs into her arch, fingers circling her ankles, and she sighs happily. “It’s only taken, oh, seven years.”  
  
“Lucky for me you’re so persistent.” She watches him with darkening eyes as his fingers slide upward over her calves.  
  
“Lucky for me, you were worth the wait.” He tugs lightly and she moves easily into his lap, curling her arms around his neck.  
  
“So,” she murmurs, rubbing her cheek against his, “now that you have me, what are you planning on doing with me?”  
  
“After seven years, trust me, I have plenty of ideas.” His hands skim up her thighs and under her t-shirt, and he quirks an eyebrow at her. “No panties, Kathryn?”  
  
“Well,” she smirks, grinding her hips in a slow circle, “I’d hate to waste any more time.” 


	3. I Thought You Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A _Bliss_ episode addition, to the prompt: "I thought you knew."
> 
>  

He’d let her keep the conversation light throughout dinner, but now that they were settled on her couch and she was staring pensively into her glass of wine, he knew it was time. He touched her hand.  
  
“Kathryn, talk to me. And don’t tell me you’re fine, because I know you better than that.”  
  
She gave him a chagrined half-smile which faded into a sigh. “What is there to say, Chakotay? Wormholes, alien technology, hallucinations… just one more hope dashed. We’ve been through this before.”  
  
“That doesn’t make it any easier.” He wound his fingers into hers.  
  
“I was so sure it was real this time,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on their joined hands. “When I woke up and I was still on the bridge –” Abruptly she pulled her hand from his, jagging to her feet, arms wrapped around herself. “I felt so _cheated_. I was on the verge of everything I’ve dreamed of for the past four years and it was ripped away from me. My family, pardons for the crew, finally being with y-” She stopped on a sharp intake of breath.  
  
Chakotay rose slowly to his feet.  
  
“Anyway,” she rushed on with a nervous laugh, “what can we do other than hold our heads up and keep on going?”  
  
“Kathryn.”  
  
“I mean, look how far we’ve come in a little over four years,” she went on, pacing, avoiding his eye. “There’s bound to be –”  
  
“ _Kathryn_.” He stepped into her path, his hands on her shoulders, tension in the fine quiver of her muscles. “Kathryn, what were you going to say? Before you cut yourself off.”  
  
“What?” She shook her head, staring at his chest. “Nothing.”  
  
“What did you see?” His heart was thudding in his chest. “You said you saw your family, the crew settled. Who else did you see, Kathryn?”  
  
She was gnawing her lip, furiously not looking at him.  
  
“Who were you with?” he asked softly.  
  
When she finally tilted her chin up her eyes were shining with tears. “You, Chakotay. I saw you. I saw us, together, just like I’ve always hoped –”  
  
She broke away from him again, clenching her fists at her sides. The silence in the room was thick.  
  
Finally, he said, “I didn’t know you felt that way.”  
  
She turned to face him, disbelieving. “You didn’t _know_? How could you not?”  
  
He gave a helpless shrug. “I hoped. But you’ve never said –”  
  
She stepped closer, eyes full, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “Not in words, Chakotay.”  
  
“Kathryn…” He felt the irresistible pull of her, the quickening of his breath that he never could seem to control when she was near. “You know how I feel –”  
  
Abruptly, she wound both arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, her lips finding his. He responded immediately, his hands on her waist at first but sliding over her hip, her back, her ribs as she moaned and pushed her thigh between his own. He could feel the rasp of her breath, the thudding of her pulse. Just as he moved a hand between them to tug at the fastening of her jacket, she drew back and pushed him gently away.  
  
“We can’t,” she stated, her voice almost throbbing with need and regret. “Not until … not now, Chakotay. Nothing has changed.”  
  
He stared at her, aching, trying to get his breathing under control.  
  
“Don’t look at me like that,” she pleaded, closing her eyes.  
  
It took him two tries to find his voice. “I understand, Kathryn.”  
  
She nodded, turning away. “You’d better go.”  
  
He headed for the door. One step before he reached the triggering mechanism, he heard a soft rustle of fabric and she was in his arms again, her hands cupping his face. “Just one more,” she whispered.  
  
They kissed as though they were starving, or drowning, or as if they were the last two people at the end of the universe. As though they were lovers saying their last goodbye. This time he was the one who ended it, realising they were rapidly reaching the point where neither of them would be able to.  
  
Her fingers rested lightly over his lips as she said with her eyes everything she couldn’t say aloud.  
  
“Now you know.”  
  
She stepped back and let him go, and although every fizzing atom in his body wanted to stay awake replaying the astonishing events of the evening, he went to sleep smiling.


	4. You Can't Choose Your Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written to the dialogue prompt: "This isn’t going to be a typical best man speech.”

“Is that a tear in your eye, Harry?”  
  
“Shut up, Tom,” his friend muttered. “They just look so happy. And after all these years, I think they deserve it.”  
  
“Years is right,” Tom snorted. “He deserves a medal for waiting so long for her.”  
  
B’Elanna thumped into her seat, nearly spilling her drink. “Damn, the captain looks stunning,” she slurred.  
  
“Are you _drunk_?” hissed Harry.  
  
Tom rescued a dangerously listing glass. “Honey, maybe you should lay off the Romulan ale. The speeches are about to start.”  
  
“I better get up there,” she exclaimed, grabbing a holocamera. “Chakotay would never forgive me if I screwed this up.”  
  
Her husband and friend watched apprehensively as she weaved her way toward the centre table. “Well, this isn’t going to be a typical best man speech,” Tom mumbled.  
  
The celebrant stood and tapped her glass and the room fell quiet. She nodded to the best man, who stood with a nervous clearing of the throat.  
  
“It’s been an honour to stand up at the wedding of two people I consider my close friends –” The best man broke off, blinking, as a holocamera flashed repeatedly.  
  
“Oh, hell, B’Elanna,” Tom muttered as his wife stumbled and righted herself.  
  
“– and family. Especially as most of us thought we’d never see the day.”  
  
The bride, the groom, the celebrant and half of the guests turned to glare.  
  
“After all,” the best man stammered, withering under the force of their combined disapproval, “it’s not every day you stand up next to the man who’s marrying your ex-girlfriend …”  
  
The entire room groaned, and Tom thunked his head onto folded arms. “B’Elanna wasn’t kidding about Chakotay being a dismal public speaker.”  
  
B’Elanna raised the camera again, gleefully firing off a few more shots of Chakotay’s deer-in-the-headlights expression.  
  
“Why did the Doc ask him to be best man, anyway?” Harry wondered.  
  
“Because Seven wanted him in the wedding party and Chakotay refused to be her maid of honour,” shrugged Tom.  
  
“… er, anyway, congratulations, Seven and um, Joe,” Chakotay finished weakly as the celebrant reached across the table to pluck the champagne out of his hand.  
  
“ _Thank_ you, Commander,” she said in icy tones, then turned back to the happy couple, raising her glass. “Well, everyone, what are you waiting for? To Seven and the Doc- uh, Joe!”  
  
“To Seven and Joe!” the guests echoed enthusiastically.  
  
B’Elanna chugged the glass of champagne in one hand while trying to aim her holocamera with the other, caught her heel in the hem of her dress and stumbled into the centre table, knocking her head on the way down.  
  
“Is there a medic in the house?” Doctor Joe called sarcastically.  
  
“Worst wedding ever,” Tom groaned as he grabbed a medkit and went to rescue his wife.  
  
“Chakotay,” he heard the celebrant hiss as he flipped open his tricorder, “I swear to God, if you’re thinking about giving the traditional groom’s speech next week, our wedding is _off_.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Captain,” Tom offered as he pressed a detox hypospray to his wife’s neck, “as you can see, Chakotay chose a much better candidate for best man than the Doc did. Just keep her away from the Romulan ale ...”


	5. Making Up is Hard to Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Make-up sex.

“Enter.”  
  
He strode into the ready room and came to a halt directly in front of her desk. “Reporting as ordered, Captain.”  
  
Kathryn looked up from her padd. He stood at full attention, jaw clenched and eyes fixed on a point about three feet above her head. “At ease, Chakotay,” she suggested, amusement low in her voice.  
  
He adopted the at-ease posture but relaxed not a whit.  
  
Kathryn sighed. “You’re still angry with me.”  
  
“Of course not,” he gritted out. “It’s inappropriate for a subordinate to be angry with his captain for repeatedly ignoring his advice - as well as three different Starfleet regulations and seven sub-regulations - so she can undertake a dangerous mission alone.”  
  
“Ah,” she said. She got up from her seat and came around the desk, resting her hip on the edge and looking up into his face. “If it makes you feel any better, Tuvok has already taken me to task for my reckless behaviour, as he terms it.”  
  
Chakotay snorted.  
  
Kathryn raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
Finally he tilted his head down to look at her, and she almost recoiled – almost – from his thunderous glare. “You think that’s supposed to make me feel better?”  
  
She ratcheted up her own glare in response. “Watch your tone, Commander.”  
  
“My apologies, Captain.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I’ll remember to watch my tone next time you fly a shuttle into an unstable nebula that causes a warp core breach. I’ll remember to watch my tone next time you’re transported to sickbay in critical condition.”  
  
His voice had started rising, and Kathryn reached out to place a hand on his arm, but he jerked away, pacing away from the desk.  
  
“I’ll remember to _watch my tone_ the next time I’m forced to take command of your bridge instead of waiting by the bedside of the woman I love to find out if she’s going to live or die!” He came to an abrupt stop in front of her, breathing heavily, hands bunched into fists at his side.  
  
“Chakotay,” she whispered.  
  
Chakotay raked a hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea how worried I was, Kathryn? When the Doctor told me he was rushing you into emergency surgery and couldn’t give me your prognosis –”  
  
She launched herself at him, stopping his words with a feverish, desperate kiss. He gave a brief grunt of surprise, but then his arms wrapped around her, hauling her as close to his body as he could. Kathryn moaned, one hand in his hair holding him to her, the other working its way beneath his jacket and flattening against the warm smooth skin of his back. As she squirmed, trying to get even closer to him, he cupped his hand under her behind and lifted her, her legs twining around his hips as he stumbled toward her desk.  
  
Padds, coffee cups and a vase of flowers went crashing to the deck as he shoved her onto the desk’s surface. Their hands scrabbled desperately with zippers and fasteners. She kicked off her boots, used her toes to hook the waistband of his pants and push them over his hips; he yanked off her jacket and struggled impatiently with the fastener of her trousers, growling in frustration when their closeness prevented him from removing them.  
  
“Let me up,” she gasped, wriggling to stand and tugging off her own pants with trembling hands. Their hands knocked and tangled as they wrestled with their own clothing and each other’s. Kathryn had managed to peel off one leg of her pants; Chakotay bent to strip off the other and lost his balance, crashing backward onto the deck and tripping Kathryn as he went. She landed on his chest, one elbow in his solar plexus.  
  
Chakotay muffled a curse.  
  
“Sorry,” she managed, struggling to get to her knees, but he curled an arm around her hips and brought her back down, his mouth capturing hers as he rolled them. She winced as his knee dug into her calf and shoved the heel of her hand against his shoulder, pushing him over onto his back.  
  
“Fuck,” he growled as his shoulder came into hard contact with the stairs that led to the upper level.  
  
Kathryn scrambled to her feet and kicked off her remaining pant leg. “Couch,” she panted, plucking at his arm. He pushed up from the floor and lunged for her, bringing her down at the top of the stairs. Chakotay groaned as the edge of the step bit into his shin.  
  
Kathryn giggled, shuffling backward on her elbows, and Chakotay’s grin became feral. “Come here.”  
  
“Come and get me,” she taunted. He took one great step and tripped over his own half-mast pants, catching his shoulder on the coffee table on the way down.  
  
_Crash_ went the small ornamental bowl as it flew off the table, and Kathryn burst into laughter, falling helplessly onto the couch.  
  
“Evil woman,” Chakotay muttered, rubbing his shoulder as he staggered over to the couch and dragged her into his arms.  
  
“But you love me anyway,” she whispered breathlessly, the words hitching into a moan as his mouth latched onto her neck.  
  
For the next several minutes they managed to avoid injuring themselves or each other despite wrestling for the dominant position, with Kathryn ending up triumphantly on top. But as she sank down onto him and his hands clamped onto her hips, Chakotay decided this was one fight he didn’t mind losing.  
  
Afterwards, Chakotay lay back and held her close, fingers sifting idly through her disheveled hair.  
  
“I love you too, you know,” Kathryn said softly, pressing her lips against his chest. “And I really am sorry. I won’t do it again.”  
  
He snorted out a laugh.  
  
She raised her head to glare, but it was half-hearted and faded into a grin. “Well, if this is the way we resolve our arguments, maybe I will…”  
  
Chakotay growled. “You do that, woman, and we’ll be having this argument – and its resolution – on the bridge.”  
  
“You wouldn’t dare.”  
  
“Try me,” he retorted, grabbing her around the waist to roll her beneath him.  
  
She squeaked as they overbalanced, tumbling off the couch and onto the carpeted floor. Chakotay cracked his elbow on the coffee table and Kathryn let out a winded ‘oof’ as he landed on top of her. Their groans were simultaneous.  
  
“We’re really bad at make-up sex,” she gasped when she was able to speak.  
  
Chakotay raised up on his elbows. “I guess we’ll just have to make sure there’s no more arguing, then,” he smiled.  
  
Kathryn reached up to curl a hand around his neck. “I can think of much better things to do with our time,” she agreed, pulling him down for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now go read the sensational prequel, [No Immediate Danger](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11819958), by Helen8462!


	6. The Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: They had a pact; a single kiss given for every troubling moment. Innocent pecks but nothing more, simply to remind them that they always had each other.

It started almost by accident, late one night in her quarters after a battle in which they lost two people. He held out his arms and she barely hesitated before walking into his embrace. She felt him press a kiss to her hair, and as she pulled away she reached up to touch her lips to his cheek.  
  
His involuntary smile produced an answering one from her, and as he left her quarters his step was light.  
  
Two weeks later the ship was almost destroyed, and in the aftermath she held her hand against his face, grateful he was alive, and he kissed her palm.  
  
It became a habit from then on, something shared between the two of them. A silent pact of understanding, of gratitude that they were both alive, of comfort and support through the dark times. Always sweet, always chaste. Always on his cheek or her forehead, or the back of her hand.  
  
Until one day when they both turned to each other at the same time and their lips met.  
  
In that moment their kisses became so much more than a reminder that they always had each other. They became a promise that they always would.


	7. Casualties of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt from @eyetagonthebridge: It’s spider season in UK atm, I was watching tv last night and a huge one ran across the floor right at me. I shrieked like a little girl! What if KJ or C hates spiders and needs the other one to spider-wrangle for them?

He’s really outdone himself this time.  
  
“Mr Neelix.” I can hear the ice in her voice, and it sends the object of her ire into paroxysms of trembling. “Would you care to explain why you elected not to follow the correct biocontainment protocols when you beamed this … _substance_ aboard my ship?”  
  
Neelix’s whiskers are quivering almost as ferociously as his voice. “Ah, ah, well, Captain, you see… I, er…”  
  
“Never mind,” she cuts him off, cracking like a whip. “Just fix it. And you, Commander,” she turns her glare on me, “I want you to supervise every move he makes. Personally.”  
  
“Uh…” I’m starting to tremble internally as much as Neelix is on the outside. “Captain, I don’t think –”  
  
“Well, that makes two of you.”  
  
Ouch. She’s really steamed. Still, I try again. “Captain, it might be better if I have Tuvok take over. I’m really busy with the –”  
  
“I don’t care what you’re busy with. Just fix it!” she snaps and stalks off.  
  
Shit.  
  
“Well, Commander,” Neelix has already regained his joviality with the captain’s exit, “where shall we start? Er, why are you backing away, sir?”  
  
I force myself to stand still. “No reason at all. So, where did they all go?”  
  
“Oh, all over the place, most likely,” he says cheerily. “Agile little things, they are. And they can jump like they’ve got springs in their legs. All eight of them,” he snorts.  
  
I cringe.  
  
“And those webs they shoot out are terribly sticky, but you learn to avoid them pretty quickly. Just make sure when you grab hold of one, you get both hands around its belly. It’ll flail around a bit, but as long as you hold on you won’t hurt it.”  
  
I can’t help it: I whimper.  
  
“Is something wrong?” Neelix’s orange eyes focus on me.  
  
“No,” I mumble. “It’s just that … well, I’m not … I don’t really like…”  
  
“You’re afraid of spiders?” Neelix asks at the top of his voice.  
  
“Shh,” I hiss at him, glancing around. Sure enough, half the crewmen in the mess hall are staring at me and snickering.  
  
“They’re perfectly harmless, you know. Just big. And ugly.” Neelix pats me on the shoulder, then chortles. “Who’d have imagined it? A strapping fellow like yourself, afraid of a few little creepy-crawlies? Ha ha ha!”  
  
My teeth are gritted. “Not so little, in this case.”  
  
“Oh, they’re only about the size of a Starfleet padd, Commander. And as I said, they won’t hurt you.”  
  
“Maybe not,” I grumble, “but they’re sticky… and all those legs… and you said they jump.” The last word comes out more like a groan.  
  
I can see Neelix is trying to be sympathetic, but there’s a smirk flirting with the corners of his mouth.  
  
“If you like, I can go first into the Jeffries tubes,” he offers oh-so-helpfully.  
  
“Let’s just get it over with,” I growl.  
  


* * *

  
  
“What was that?” My voice is an octave higher than its usual register.  
  
Neelix glances back over his shoulder at me. “Commander?”  
  
I scoot backward in the cramped Jeffries tube, hugging my knees to my chest. “I saw something move. Over there.”  
  
Neelix squints. “You’re right! There you are, my little beauty!”  
  
He scrambles forward and makes a grab for the eight-legged horror. It scuttles sideways. He lunges. The arachnid abruptly changes direction and launches itself directly at my face.  
  
Oh Spirits. The hairy legs! The plump body! The beady eyes! The terror as it spins its slimy, glutinous web from an orifice in its belly!  
  
I’m screaming like a schoolgirl in a haunted house, batting wildly at the Thing that’s malevolently gripping onto my hair with its horrid little feet. I can all but hear its awful thin spidery voice cackling at me. The web is sticking to my face and uniform. I can’t breathe…  
  
“Commander!” Neelix is shouting, grasping without success at my hands. “Hold still! The poor little thing, it’s terrified of you!”  
  
If I wasn’t so preoccupied with being absolutely petrified, I’d laugh. Or slug Neelix in his spotty, spider-loving, non-alien-food-barrel-scanning face.  
  
Finally, with a particularly wild flail of my arm, I manage to dislodge the fuzzy crawler and fling it halfway down the Jeffries tube. It ricochets off the wall and drops to the deck with a splat, then scuttles away into the distance.  
  
Neelix is lying on his back howling.  
  
“What is it? Did it bite you?” I’m still shaking, but I’m his superior officer and it’s my job to keep him safe.  
  
Neelix can barely speak, but he manages to pant out, “Oh Great Tree… your face… oh my, Commander … I haven’t laughed so hard in ages!”  
  
I feel like curling up in a ball and crying.  
  
 _“Janeway to Chakotay.”_  
  
My heart is still racing as I tap my combadge. “Yes, Captain.”  
  
 _“Have you and Mr Neelix cleared my ship of vermin yet?”_  
  
“Uh…”  
  
Neelix leans over and speaks into my combadge. “Hello, Captain, it’s Neelix. Commander Chakotay and I are making good progress. We’ve almost managed to trap one of the little critters, so I’m sure the ship will be de-spidered in no time.”  
  
There’s an ominous pause, then: _“Are you telling me you haven’t managed to trap a single spider yet?”_  
  
“Err…”  
  
The venom in her voice could out-poison a Terellian tree spider. _“Mr Neelix, when you requested permission to beam up three cartons of leola root, I agreed against my better judgment. When you took it upon yourself to circumvent the proper transporter protocols for biomatter, I considered having the whole shipment flushed out of an airlock. But if you don’t contain this infestation, I’ll beam the whole lot into space with you inside. Now get it done!”_  
  
Our ears ring in the sudden silence as the comm snaps off.  
  
“Don’t worry, Commander,” Neelix offers, perking up. “I have an idea.”

* * *

  
  
It takes two hours to reconfigure the sensors to detect each furry hell-beast and set up forcefields to trap every last one of them, adjust the fields to allow a stun-set phaser beam to penetrate each one, and scoop up each unconscious arachnid into an empty flour sack. The task is made ever more onerous by Neelix’s never-ending chatter about the anatomy of the chubby little creepers, loaded with advice about ‘facing my fears’ as he swindles me into doing the scooping.  
  
But by the time we’ve collected every last one, I have to admit his theory has some merit: I am finding the plate-sized creatures less horrifying. I’m even beginning to take an interest in the brown and bronze striations on their fuzzy little carcasses and the short little front legs that look a bit like kittens’ paws (or so Neelix claims). And when Neelix rhapsodises about their bugged-out little eyes, which he claims are ‘adorable’, I find that I no longer feel as though my spine is attempting to forcibly climb out of my body.  
  
Contrary to Neelix’s optimistic exclamations, though, I doubt I’ll be actively seeking contact with any kind of arachnid any time soon.  
  
Finally, all the spiders are sleeping peacefully in a containment field in Sickbay, and I trudge wearily back to my quarters, desperate for a long sonic shower. My quarters are dark as I step inside, navigating on autopilot. I’ve already stripped off my jacket and started pulling off my turtleneck when something large and furry strikes me in the chest.  
  
Screaming like a startled targ, I hop from foot to foot, brushing frantically at my violated body. How could we have missed one of the horrible creatures? And where the hell did it go? I’ve kicked off my boots and am halfway through yanking off my pants, terrified that the crawly horror has found its way inside my clothing, when I hear it.  
  
That low, throaty, distinctly evil, very _familiar_ chuckle.  
  
Shaking but forcing myself to remain still, I croak, “Kathryn?”  
  
“Lights,” she says, and I blink at the sight of her and almost scream again.  
  
She slinks toward me, all skin-tight fishnet and enormous winged collar, her stocking garters flashing at me through the split in her skirt with every step. As she moves right up into my personal space, her long eyelashes sweep downward and her talon-like fingernails trail across my shoulders.  
  
“Not Kathryn,” she husks. “Arachnia, Queen of the Spider People.”  
  
She hooks a finger into my belt, and I’m starting to tremble for a different reason altogether now.  
  
“I hear you’ve had a very interesting time today with my minions,” she murmurs. “Did the big bad Maquis manage to face his fear after all?”  
  
My hands are busy mapping the exposed parts of her skin under that body-stocking, and my lips find their way to her throat.  
  
“And here I thought you didn’t like spiders,” she purrs, slinking her arms around my neck.  
  
“I’m starting to come around to …”  
  
But the last of my words are muffled as she takes my mouth with hers. And I decide that I like contact with this particular arachnid very much indeed.  
  



	8. Clear Sailing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt from @cheile: "Can I just ask for something happy because too much angst exists lately? a second moonlight sail on Lake George when they get home perhaps? except with the right results.”
> 
> (Warning: tooth-rotting fluff ahead.)

_2373_  
  
He knew he was staring at her, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop.  
  
He tried to focus on the ripples across the dark water, the rhythmic creak and whip of the sails, but it was no use. His gaze continued to drift back to her: following the lines of her torso, the jut of her clavicle above the edge of her dress; caressing the slight upturn of her lips; lingering on her hair, caught by the mild breeze and tossed in a cloud around her shoulders.  
  
“You’ll give a girl a complex if you don’t cut that out.”  
  
Chakotay jerked his gaze away from the hollow where her neck met her shoulder. “What?” he asked sheepishly.  
  
A smile was flirting with her lips, so he relaxed a fraction. “You’re staring,” she pointed out, and the smile widened into a grin.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he confessed, “it’s just that –”  
  
“I know.” Her face softened in sympathy, head tilting slightly. “I’m all right, Chakotay. Really.”  
  
A wave of grief hit him unexpectedly in the solar plexus. “I couldn’t revive you,” he said thickly, looking down at his hands. “I tried for so long but you weren’t breathing. Kathryn, I couldn’t …”  
  
A pale hand wound into his and his words tailed off.  
  
“I know,” she said again. “Chakotay, if it wasn’t for you, the Doctor might not have been able to revive me. You’re the reason I’m alive.”  
  
His voice was still raw as he looked up at her. “I guess we’re even, then.”  
  
A crinkle appeared between her brows.  
  
“You’re the reason I’m alive, too,” he explained, the words signifying far more than their surface meaning would suggest.  
  
He watched the expressions play out across her face: understanding, compassion, a gentle, sweet sort of affection that changed as he continued to gaze at her into something warmer and altogether more powerful. The rhythm of her breathing faltered, the hand that was entwined with his tightened on his fingers, and her lips parted ever so slightly.  
  
She swayed toward him, the movement infinitesimal, but to him it was everything. And when her other hand crept upward and came to rest against his cheek, Chakotay closed his eyes.  
  
He felt the instant of hesitation as her mouth brushed lightly over his and he kept perfectly still, barely breathing, knowing that this was completely up to her.  
  
But Kathryn was nothing if not decisive, and it appeared she had made up her mind.  
  
At the first proper touch of her lips he couldn’t hold back a shuddering exhale. It must have emboldened her, because the hand on his face curved around the back of his neck, fingers winding into his hair as she pulled him close, closer, down with her.  
  
They were really kissing now, tasting the sweetness of previously forbidden lips. He broke away to gasp air and then his mouth was on her throat, his arms stealing around her as she arched against him. He slipped one hand around to her waist and crept it upwards, sliding over the thin cotton of her blouse until he cupped her breast.  
  
She moaned, a sound that sent a thrill down the length of his spine and pushed his hips into hers. He felt her thighs part under him, her legs wrapping around his hips. He began to work at the buttons of her blouse and felt her slip her hands inside the waist of his pants, heard her choked whisper, “Chakotay…”  
  
A stray thought crossed his mind: Would they be doing this – would she be allowing them to do this – if she hadn’t almost died today?  
  
He tried to brush it away, tried to concentrate on the warmth of her skin and the way she was clutching at him, but the inner voice was insistent.  
  
 _This is wrong_.  
  
It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but Chakotay pulled back and let his hands drift away from her body. Kathryn’s eyes opened on his, dark with want. She blinked, the crinkle returning between her brows.  
  
“We can’t,” he said, regret throbbing in his voice.  
  


* * *

  
  
 _2378_  
  
Her hair was shorter now, and the light breeze picked it up and threw handfuls of it across her face. Kathryn laughed and tucked it behind her ears. When she turned to face him her eyes were clear and sparkling and he found his lips widening in a grin.  
  
“Do you remember the last time I brought you here, Chakotay?”  
  
Unbidden, a swell of emotion rose in his throat. “How could I forget?”  
  
Kathryn tilted her head, studying him. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I suppose it isn’t much of a happy memory for you.”  
  
He shook his head, his smile growing shy. “Parts of it are.”  
  
“Ah.” She smiled back and he was delighted to note the colour rising in her cheeks. “Yes, well, parts of it are for me, too.”  
  
He rose from the deck, where he’d been sprawled across the picnic blanket. She watched him as he approached. He thought she might be holding her breath. He could see her gripping onto the railing behind her.  
  
He moved up close, and closer still, and felt her breath catch as her face tilted up. Her gaze flickered and fixed on his mouth, and her own lips parted.  
  
There was so much to say, so many things they needed to talk about, to reconcile and forgive. But in this moment, none of that mattered.  
  
Chakotay rested his hands on the railing either side of hers, his thumbs stroking her clenched knuckles.  
  
She swayed toward him, and he dipped his head and brushed his mouth over hers. As before, he knew this had to be her decision.  
  
She didn’t hesitate to make it. Her hands unclenched from the railing and looped around his neck, her fingers winding into his hair as her lips opened under his. Her mouth tasted as sweet as his memory of it, and her body, when he placed his hands on it, was warm and lush. His hands spanned her ribs, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts in the thin cotton shirt, and when he felt her shudder his touch firmed.  
  
Kathryn broke away from his kiss to let her head fall back, and he took her unspoken invitation to move his lips to her throat.  
  
“Chakotay,” she gasped as he cupped her breasts, “please tell me,” she broke off on a moan as his mouth found that spot under her ear, “you’re not going to stop this time…”  
  
He raised his head and observed the slight trembling in her body, the heavy-lidded eyes and the way her chest rose and fell with quick breaths. Experimentally he dragged his thumbs across her nipples and watched her body dip and quiver.  
  
It was all the permission he needed. Slipping his hands under her thighs, he lifted her and started moving determinedly toward the hatch that led to the lower deck. But she squeezed her legs around him and said, “Wait.”  
  
He halted, trying to control the hammering of his heart. “You’re changing your mind?”  
  
“No.” She smiled. “I just want to make love with you here, under the stars.”  
  
He grinned at her, and there must have been a certain wolfishness to it because he watched her eyes widen. She tightened her limbs around him.  
  
“ _Now_ , Chakotay,” she ordered, and he laughed, turning to lay her carefully on the blanket.  
  
It had never been like this before for him, not with anyone. She surrounded him, wrapped him up in heat and want and the inimitable scent of her. Neither of them noticed the hardness of the deck beneath them or the gentle roll of the boat. Everything was immaterial – everything but the stroke of hands over skin as they shed their clothes, the heat of lips and tongues, the sensation of bliss as he finally slid inside her.  
  
He couldn’t be sure if it lasted forever or a moment, but when they lay still, Kathryn cradled against his chest and his arms holding her close, he realised that this was the moment he’d been waiting for, for seven years. The moment he’d been holding his breath for: the perfect rightness of being with her, with no hesitation and no barriers between them.  
  
“I’m glad you didn’t stop this time,” she murmured, her lips moving against his neck.  
  
“As I recall,” he smiled, turning his head to press his lips to her hair, “you weren’t going to take no for an answer.”  
  
She laughed, propping herself up on her folded arms. “Well, as long as you’re feeling so amenable, can I ask you a question? And I hope you’ll say yes.”  
  
His eyes widened. “If you’re going to ask what I hope you are, then my answer is –”  
  
“Let’s get married,” she blurted.  
  
“– yes.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [No Immediate Danger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819958) by [Helen8462](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/pseuds/Helen8462)




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